


Only gift that I need

by Signe_chan



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Giving, Hanukkah, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: Ransom had kind of been expecting something in the mail, but when he got home, his post box was empty. It was weird. It was the first night of Hanukkah and Holster normally loved Hanukkah. Ransom didn’t exactly celebrate, wasn’t his religion, but he enjoyed Holster sharing shit with him and he’d been sure to get his box of gifts and shit in the post nice and early so Holster would have them.





	Only gift that I need

Ransom had kind of been expecting something in the mail, but when he got home, his post box was empty. It was weird. It was the first night of Hanukkah and Holster normally loved Hanukkah. Ransom didn’t exactly celebrate, wasn’t his religion, but he enjoyed Holster sharing shit with him and he’d been sure to get his box of gifts and shit in the post nice and early so Holster would have them. 

Still, not having a present didn’t mean anything. Maybe Holster had decided to save up this year to come out and see him. Ransom didn’t regret making the decision to take a residency in San Francisco after training in Boston but they’d both figured on Holster being able to follow him pretty quickly and that hadn’t happened. They were missing each other, that was all. Holster was his best bro and his boyfriend and his fucking everything and it sucked, having to be without him. 

Saving for a plane ticket instead of sending gifts would be great with Ransom. 

He sent a text anyway to say happy Hanukkah then crawled into bed. It was midday but he had to be on shift again at 10pm. 

He woke up at 8 to a thanks from Holster and a picture of Holster in the stupid beanie he’d sent. Holster, of course, looked super fucking hot in it and Ransom texted him back to tell him then went to the other text. 

From an unknown number. 

He frowned at the message for a minute. He didn’t exactly give out his number a lot, those days were behind him. Still, he opened the message to check. 

It was an address. Just an address. Justin frowned then pushed out of bed. There was no fucking way he was going to some random address. Someone had probably fucked up and put a number wrong and got Ransom instead of someone they actually knew. He turned off his phone and went to shower. 

The problem was, even when he was done with his shower he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. If it wasn’t for him, it’d be cool of him to text back and tell whoever it was. If it was for him, he needed to tell the police or some shit. 

He grabbed his phone on the way to the kitchen and texted back to let them know it was a wrong number. Before he’d even made his coffee he got a reply that, no, it wasn’t. Which was really fucking weird. Police, then. Or changing his phone. He really didn’t want to change phones – his grandma was getting old and she got confused enough about the change of address, he didn’t want to have to explain changing his phone number too her. 

Unless...

He flipped to google maps and put in the address. A coffee shop. The one he and Holster had been to on their trip down here to visit the campus. The one where they’d made the decision to go for it and move. 

Yeah, that made a lot of sense. 

He texted Holster to let him know he wasn’t subtle and got a string of question marks in reply which he ignored, Holster knew what he was doing. 

Ransom could use a coffee though. And if a little part of him hoped he’d walk into the coffee shop and find Holster, that was only between him and himself. He knew that was stupid, Holster was working in Boston. He wasn’t here. He still hurried to the coffee shop. 

Holster wasn’t there, but the barista gave him a funny look when he came in and checked under the counter, then smiled at him uncertainly so something was up. He approached slowly. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “Are you Ransom?” 

“Sure am,” Ransom said. She nodded then leant under the desk and came up with an envelope she passed over to him. 

“Just wait a second,” she said, smiling. “I’ll get your drink.” 

“Oh, okay,” he said, grabbing the envelope and opening it. It was a blank white card. Printed, so no handwriting, but it said ‘I love how hard you work for the things you believe in’ so if this wasn’t Holster, he had a pretty dedicated stalker. 

The barista reappeared, holding out a cup and promising him it’d already been paid for. He sipped it and, yeah, just how he liked it. He smiled, thanked her, and grabbed a table. Sending another text. 

>You can give it up, bro. I know it’s you.

>I don’t know what you’re talking about. 

>Whatever. Thanks for the coffee. 

\--

Getting off shift the next morning, Ransom found another text from his unknown number. This time, he followed it to a diner that apparently did the best breakfast in state in found the special waiting for him, though according to the menu they should have stopped serving it an hour ago. It was the biggest pile of junk food Ransom had ever seen so he snapped a pic to send to Holster before working his way through it. 

On his way out, he was handed another envelope. Another card. This one said ‘I love how beautiful your smile is in the morning’ and god, Ransom’s boyfriend was such a fucking sap and he loved it. 

He got home, crawled into bed, and slept. 

\--

Hanukkah day three was an off day, which Holster obviously knew, obviously, because Ransom got his text mid-morning, while he was working on his third cup and coffee and a paper. Just because he wasn’t in the hospital didn’t mean he wasn’t working. There was plenty of theory to keep up with. 

The text, when he noticed it, had a time as well as a place today and Ransom kind of freaked out when he realised he’d missed the text for a while and didn’t have much time to get there. 

The address was an ice rink. Ransom paused outside it. It’d been literally years since he was on the ice, which sucked but when did he have time? He was an adult now, he couldn’t just go and fuck around on the ice whenever he wanted. He had professional development and shit. 

Only Holster had paid for this. Holster had done this as a treat for him. 

With a sigh, he let himself into the building. 

As always, they seemed to know who he was and Ransom couldn’t help wondering how many of these people Holster had to bribe. Maybe he’d just been really sweet to them all. Bashful. He did that. A guy as big as he was shouldn’t have been able to look as bashful and hopeful as he did. 

Turned out, the ice was his for an hour. Just his. He had to borrow skates but they were happy to help. They lent him a stick, too, and a bucket of pucks, then left him to it. 

Half an hour in, Ransom was willing to admit that this had been a good idea after all. He felt himself in a way he hadn’t for a while with the ice under his skates. Of course, he was in nothing like the shape he’d been in during college but he still enjoyed it and there was a pretty visceral joy to putting pucks into a net. 

He was worn out by the time he had to clear the ice, but in a good way. A way that his morning jogs never seemed to quite reach. He took a picture of the ice before heading out then dropped by the front desk to pick up his envelope. 

‘I’ve loved you since you first gave me a snow shower’. 

Fucking sweet. 

Ransom phoned Holster. 

“Hey,” Holster said, picking up on the third ring all casual, like he hadn’t been hovering over his phone. 

“Hey babe. You ready to admit that these texts are from you yet?” 

“You really guessed right away?” 

“I guessed before I even left the house after the first one, babe. Did you think I wouldn’t? You sent me to the cafe where we decided to move to San Francisco and left me a love note. It was either you or a really weird stalker.” 

“Guess I’m bad at subtle,” Holster grumbled and Ransom grinned because, yeah, but he loved him anyway. “But you’ve had a good time, right?” 

“The best, bro. Only thing that’d be better’d be if you were here with me.” 

“Soon,” Holster promised, like he’d been promising for the last few months. “I promise, Rans.” 

“You’d better,” Ransom said, but there was no edge to it. He knew Holster was doing his best. Knew he hated the separation as much as Ransom. “So, how’s Hanukkah going? Is your mom cooking for you? Tell me everything.” 

\--

Day four, the text came from Holster’s phone. Ransom got a tour of Alcatraz and had to remind them at the end to get his love letter. ‘I love the way you snore, it’s really fucking cute.’ 

Day five he came off shift to a text sending him for a foot massage. ‘I love that you’re not afraid to tell me when I’ve fucked up. You make me a better person.’

Day six, after he’d slept, the text sent him to a seafood restaurant he’d been talking to Holster about wanting to try. ‘I love your sense of adventure.’

\--

Day seven was a bad day. 

Ransom worked in a hospital, bad days happened. Normally he was pretty cool with emergencies and people dying even though you did your best to save them. As cool as anyone could be, anyway. He had a good therapist and a good support network. There was just something about a kid dying. He didn’t normally have to go anywhere near that but they’d been short staffed and there’d been a pile up. 

He texted Holster as soon as he got off shift and Holster talked to him the entire walk home, just about nothing. Just to keep him from dwelling. 

He called his therapist. Then his mom, who promised him cookies. Then he meditated, because that shit actually helped, then he slept. 

In all that, he wasn’t actually expecting one of his texts from Holster but he woke up to a series of them. 

>Bro  
>First, I love you.   
>So fucking much.   
>You are the most important fucking person in my life and you are an amazing boyfriend and an amazing doctor.   
>I love you.   
>Second.   
>I’m not gonna make you go out today.   
>I know shit’s bad, you’ve gotta take care of yourself.   
>Self-care is some important shit.   
>I was gonna send you on a little scavenger hunt ending with this but I’m just gonna e-mail you instead.   
>So check your inbox.   
>I love you. 

Ransom smiled, fired off a love you too, then went to his e-mail app. There was an e-mail from Holster. No content, but an attachment. He downloaded it. He read it three times. 

It was a contract. 

A contact with Holster’s signature, for a job here with a consulting firm. A serious step up salary-wise from where he had been, too. And starting in the new year. 

He called Holster, but his phone went straight to voicemail which was fucking weird. Ransom tried three times then left a message. 

“Is this for real, bro? Call me when you get this. I fucking love you man but if you’re fucking with me... just call me.” 

Then he went to work. 

\--

Ransom had never had a shift drag like this one. He felt like he spent half his time staring at the door, waiting for it to be over. It was even quiet. Hospitals were never quiet. 

He tried phoning Holster every break, but Holster didn’t answer. But if that was real. If Holster really had a job down here...

He tried not to think about it too much, but it was tough. 

The night passed slowly. 

As soon as his shift let out, he was out of the building. He hung around outside for a few minutes, scanning faces, but Holster wasn’t there. Of course. Because Holster was probably still in Boston but somehow Ransom didn’t think that was true. 

He got him in record time, half expecting to find Holster on his doorstep with his dick in a box or some shit. He didn’t, though. Just his quiet apartment in his quiet building. He didn’t have any texts either. Or calls. 

What if something had gone wrong? What if Holster hadn’t texted him because he was dead somewhere. He should text Holster’s mom. He knew he was overreacting but she’d calm him down and promise him that she’d know if Holster was in danger and then he’d be able to think again and breath and...

His phone chimed with a text. It was from the unknown number. 

>Open the door. 

Ransom almost tripped over himself in his rush to do it, fully expecting Holster. Instead, there was a box. A pretty fucking big box. He looked around, suspicious. 

“Holtz. I know you’re here.” 

Nothing. He went down the hall, checked the stairwell, then back. Well, fuck. Okay. He could play the game a little longer. 

He dragged the box inside. It was a brown box, pretty normal. His name was written across the front of it so he opened it and took out... another box. This one wrapped in paper with little Menoras and where did Holster even get that? He tore off the paper to another box, which opened to another box. 

He went back to check outside the door again, but it was still deserted. Fuck. He didn’t want to do this. He just wanted to see Holster and kiss his stupid face. 

He went back to the box and carried on unwrapping. 

It was boxed all the way down. Box after box, nestled inside each other. Smaller and smaller. He was just thinking this entire thing was going to be an elaborate joke when he tore open a box and found, well, another box. But a ring box. 

His breath caught in his chest. 

Holster wouldn’t. 

Only he completely fucking would, the dork. 

Ransom flipped the box open and some confetti fell out, and a slip of paper. No ring. Ransom was going to fucking murder him. He’d been unboxing for nearly twenty minutes. 

He grabbed the piece of paper. 

Check the door. 

Motherfucker. 

He went and pulled his door open the ran up short. Holster, down on one knee with the ring Ransom had thought was going to be in the box in his hand, grinning like a fucking Cheshire cat. Holding the ring out to Ransom. And he looked so fucking good. Happy and relaxed and god, Ransom just wanted to kiss him. 

So he did, getting down on his knees and pulling Holster forward by his shoulders. Wrapping his arms around Holster to keep him close and kissing the fucking like out of him. 

He’d been needing this for so long. 

“Hey,” Holster said, eventually, pushing him back a little. “Come on, babe. I’m trying to propose here.” 

“You already know I’m gonna say yes, you idiot. That job contract’s real, right?” 

“Of course, babe. I’ve worked my notice, too. All my stuff’s outside in the car. I wanted to tell you but I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

Holster was staying. Right now, he was staying. He wasn’t going to go back for a few more weeks to work his notice or whatever, he was here with Ransom and he was staying here with Ransom and Ransom had never heard anything better than that. 

“Shit, I love you.” 

“I’m glad. I mean, otherwise my car full of belongings would be pretty awkward.” 

“Yeah, we should bring that in,” Ransom said, forcing himself off the floor. “I mean, you don’t wanna leave all your shit outside for too long, that’s asking for trouble. Give me the ring first, though.” 

“Hey, I want to put in on,” Holster said, gesturing for Ransom’s hand, so Ransom held it out, let Holster slide the ring into his finger. It was slight big but he could get it re-sized. He could live with that. “Bro,” Holster said, staring down at the ring on Ransom’s hand. “You know, you haven’t actually said yes yet.” 

“You hugs fucking dork. Yes, I’ll marry you. Someone has to. Come on, let’s empty your car and move you in. There are a few things I’ve been missing and the sooner I can get you alone inside, the better.” 

“Sweet.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in 12 fic I will post over he next 12 days featuring winter festive celebration. Half will be check please, half will be hockey RPF, each will focus on a different pairing. 
> 
> I really hope I didn't fuck up any Hanukkah traditions. I'm not jewish so if I got something wrong, yell at me loudly and I'll do everything in my power to fix it. You can do that in the comments here or on tumblr @signechan.


End file.
